The Dream Society’s Offer

“Good afternoon, Sister Ghervil of Solis Abbey. I am a scholar from the Dream Society, and currently a provisional agent of the Epidemic Prevention Bureau, rank four. My name is Lalviye-Komel; you may simply call me by my given name.”

Beneath the flickering candlelight, the purple-haired woman held her hat to her chest and bowed in deference.

‘The Dream Society?’

‘Yet another organization I’ve never heard of.’

‘The surname Komel… Ghervil felt she had heard it somewhere before, but for the life of her, she couldn’t recall where.’

“Did you notice me when I was still out on the street?”

“Yes, and I also overheard the conversation between you and your police friend.”

The woman’s smiling reply took her by surprise. It wasn’t until Ghervil subtly shifted her position moments ago, observing that the other woman’s pupils remained fixed on their initial spot without following her movement, that the realization struck her.

‘How could a blind person have seen me?’ she wondered, finding it impolite to ask directly.

“My apologies, I was the one who asked her to relay those messages to me.”

“It’s quite alright; you were entitled to know.”

“Will you hold her accountable?”

“No, we won’t. As you yourself mentioned, you were the one who initiated the inquiry.”

“……”

An awkward silence settled in the air. The purple-haired woman was undeniably beautiful, a peer to Dr. Callan in appearance, with a figure that was perhaps even more striking. The gown she wore might not have fit her so perfectly without tailoring.

Any man, especially an unmarried youth, would have felt a strong urge to converse with her, but Ghervil harbored no such inclination at the moment.

It wasn’t that she had fully accepted her current identity as a young girl; changing clothes, bathing, or using the restroom still filled her with embarrassment.

Rather, she found the woman before her peculiar. How to describe it? There was a stark dissonance between her deferential tone and the respectful honorifics she used.

It felt like the calculated disguise of a hunter, designed to lull its prey into a false sense of security.

“Were you sent by Bishop Sartre? If not, I believe I should take my leave.”

“I was not.”

As Ghervil bowed slightly and turned to depart, she heard the woman’s voice once more.

“But I took the liberty of adding one crucial sentence to that letter.”

“You mean…”

The woman bent down, lifted the briefcase at her feet to chest height, and opened it to a ninety-degree angle, revealing its contents.

Ghervil’s eyes widened. Inside the briefcase, nestled within a fitted compartment, lay a black-covered book. Adorning its cover were several distinctive characters, appearing to float above the surface, rendered in a faintly distorted, illusory Finter Art Text (TL Note: A fictional, stylized script that appears to float and subtly distort, often associated with dream-related or arcane texts).

[Drowsiness and Ailments]

‘This is utterly preposterous.’

‘At this time, she hadn’t yet been released from her ‘idiot’ state; logically, it should have been impossible for her to comprehend any written information.’

The text itself was highly unusual; as she stared at it, the characters seemed to twist and morph into different forms.

The sight left her mind in a daze.

“Thump!”

The briefcase snapped shut.

“You truly possess a talent for dreams. No… forgive my presumption, but perhaps it’s more accurate to say that such a talent is inevitable for a member of Solis Abbey.”

The voice was startlingly close. Ghervil abruptly looked up, only to find the woman standing directly before her, having moved there without her notice.

“If you would only grant me one small request—to sample your dreams—then this book, which circulates exclusively within our Society, will be yours to read permanently, along with an invitation to join our ranks.”

Her head spun with increasing intensity, the voice seeming to penetrate her very thoughts. She pressed a hand to her forehead, staggering backward until she leaned against a wall, slowly sinking into a crouch.

Through the blurring vision, she perceived a white, ethereal figure; the woman had also crouched down before her.

It was evident that the woman was responsible for her body’s strange reaction.

“And what if… I refuse?” she managed to reply, forcing the words out.

The woman’s surprise at the girl’s answer flickered across her face, then her lips curved into a wider smile.

“You don’t seem to grasp your current predicament. Solis Abbey exists in name only; without the Dean’s protection, the word ‘refuse’ will only betray your naivety.”

“Especially for the doctors of the Order, if your ailment satisfies any condition within this book, endless surveillance and treatment await you… or death. But by joining the Dream Society, you can achieve maximum freedom.”

“Hmph…”

The girl shook her head vigorously, attempting to clear her mind, and scoffed,

“It seems your ‘Dream Society’ is nothing more than a second-rate organization that preys on the weak and takes advantage of others’ misfortunes… still resorting to crude threats… a disgrace to the very word ‘scholar’.”

Silence.

After the silence, a low voice spoke.

“I shall pretend I didn’t hear that. Please, consider your options carefully.”

After about ten seconds, the dizziness and fatigue vanished, leaving only a silver briefcase before her.

“Huuuh…”

Ghervil let out a heavy sigh of relief.

That sensation earlier had been eerily similar to an onset of her ailment; the woman had, through some unknown means, triggered her condition, or perhaps achieved the effect through a form of hypnosis.

‘What does she want with my dreams?’ she wondered. ‘I don’t even dream.’

She couldn’t help but suspect that the Dream Society was one of the hundred-plus organizations, big and small, mentioned by the Dean.

Daring to act in a place like the Sanctuary suggested the organization’s background and influence were considerable, likely with some level of cooperation from official channels.

After all, the woman had stated she was a provisional agent of the Epidemic Prevention Bureau, rank four—the same rank as Ramsey.

“Didn’t Dr. Callan say no organization would dare take me in…?”

Ghervil stood up, grumbling mournfully.

She kicked the briefcase over with her foot, and the black-covered book tumbled out, falling open.

Her mood was no longer quite so foul; at the very least, the other party hadn’t dared to fully offend her, leaving the book behind as an apology.

This was the only reason she could conceive for the book’s abandonment.

Picking up the book, she examined the open page, noticing upon closer inspection that the words were indeed not printed on the paper but floated a few millimeters above the surface.

The fact that the text didn’t directly implant its meaning into her mind proved she hadn’t utilized the ‘convenience’ of her ailment.

A book written in Finter language would be perfect for testing the progress of her elementary dictionary studies.

[#21 Drowsy Crows.

Epidemic Level: Severe.

First discovered in 1947 in a village near the Klaray River Valley. Affected villagers reported experiencing extremely terrifying and realistic hallucinations in their dreams on the night of November 7th. The hallucinations depicted an apple orchard teeming with crows, numbering 750 in total, corresponding to the 750 residents of the village. Each crow could speak human language, attempting to lure patients into joining them through deception, threats, or appeals to sympathy.

Engulfed by terror, the patients awoke at dawn unable to provide an answer. For over a month thereafter, they experienced no dreams, though they suffered from mild narcolepsy; otherwise, no other abnormalities were observed.

Then, on the night of December 7th, every person in the entire village died mysteriously at midnight. Countless crows appeared out of thin air from the depths of the river valley, devouring the villagers’ corpses overnight before settling onto the village’s apple trees to sleep.

The three agents who handled this incident collectively killed 751 crows. Subsequently, these three agents dreamt of similar scenes, but with a staggering three thousand crows. Treatment proved ineffective, and 29 days later, they were transferred to the Royal Capital Hospital Department. With their consent, their bodies were preserved as disease samples after their deaths.]

[This is an abridged version. The complete edition can be purchased internally within the Society.]

[Note: Rankings are not indicative of severity. For internal Society circulation only. Any form of physical transcription is strictly prohibited; violators will be prosecuted.]

Upon seeing “abridged version,” Ghervil immediately flipped to the back cover, where the price was listed as one thousand Trin.

“Wha—what did it say?”

Her mouth fell open wide enough to fit an egg.

An abridged version costing a thousand Trin? She dared not even imagine the price of the full edition.

If that woman, Komel, had simply spoken kindly from the start, offering a friendly invitation with those thousand Trin, Ghervil might well have agreed.

The more she thought about it, the more she feared the words on the book might vanish, so she quickly flipped back to the table of contents to see if any other information she sought was there.

After three minutes, having scanned through nearly a hundred ailments, she found neither ‘Time Perception Disorder’ nor ‘Kline-Levin Syndrome,’ and her lingering anxiety finally dissipated.

In these few minutes of reading, she had encountered only a handful of unfamiliar words that didn’t impede her comprehension, a testament to her good study progress and growing confidence for tomorrow’s assessment.

She now even felt like sneaking away, returning to thoroughly study this book, as her objective had, in any case, been achieved.

With that thought, she placed the book back into the briefcase. Just as she picked it up and reached the stairwell, a voice called out from behind her.

“I’ve finally found you, Sister Ghervil!”

‘Again?’

Turning back impatiently, she saw not a nun or priest in black habits, but a somewhat familiar, slightly plump lady.